


166 - The Infamous 'Baby Ali' Fic

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Dad Van, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 08:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “Van being in a relationship with a girl since forever and loves her to death, but when he starts to get famous he breaks up with her so they both could dedicate to their careers, despite of her begging him not to. Then, a few months later she finds out she’s pregnant and tries to reach him, his parents, his friends, his crew, but she can’t get in touch with them, so Van only finds out he has a daughter in 2017?” and “one about the reader being from the states and van always talking about how he loves the way she talks or something like that?” Bonus mini-request of Van singing a lullaby to his kid.





	166 - The Infamous 'Baby Ali' Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I’m going to have to change the prompt a bit, because if Van and Reader had a pre-existing relationship there is no way she wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him. You know? It has to be that she doesn’t know him. I hope that’s alright! Also - this is the longest fic I have ever written, and I poured a lot of time and energy and love into it. Please. Please feedback.

"Mummy. Song!"

You rolled onto your side, not opening your eyes. Alistair was pulling at your hair. You'd fallen asleep on the couch again, leaving your almost-two year old to his own devices. Dangerous, stupid, but you'd given up feeling guilty about things a long time ago. As a single mum, you couldn't afford the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. 

You could hear a song coming from the television. You'd left MTV on, which with another questionable parenting choice. It was Ali's song. It was constantly on the radio and for some unknown reason, he had fallen in love with it. Whenever it played, he'd bounce around and call "Song! Song!"

Slowly you sat up, rubbing your face. Ali was leaning on the coffee table, wriggling his hips, staring at the screen. You smiled at him, your little music man, then followed his line of sight. You stopped breathing. No. There's no way. Ali looked back at you and stopped dancing. He waddled over, resting his hands on your knees.

"Mummy? Wrong?" You couldn't look away. It was. It was him. The small sniffling sounds that preceded crying began and your attention was drawn to your child. You picked him up and held him close.

"No. Nothing's wrong, baby. It's just… We know him,"

"Know Song?"

"Yeah. I think…"

Alistair nodded into you, like he understood what you were saying. What you were saying was 'The guy in the band on our television, the singer of the song you're inexplicably in love with, is almost certainly your father. The boy I slept with a few years back, without asking for a name. The person that is half of you.' 

You had racked your brain in the weeks after the one night stand, searching for any clues. All you could remember from the drunken night was his accent, so different to your American one. The name Evan kept popping up but you were sure that wasn't it. The name still felt important though. You could remember his face and the fact that he smoked a lot. He was there for work but he didn't say what the work was. You were unemployed at the time, so you didn't push it. You didn't want him to ask you what you did. Basically, you'd just fallen into each other smashed and fucked in a hotel room while he told you that he was obsessed with your voice and the twang of your words. In the early hours of the morning, you snuck from the room before he woke up. It was meant to be easy.

The first period no-show wasn't concerning. The second was. The many, many drugstore pregnancy tests were. The doctor's face, looking at a twenty-year old soon-to-be-single-mum was. It was all very, very concerning. That was in August of 2014. When Alistair dropped into the world in May of 2015, it wasn't concerning anymore. He was perfect and healthy and wonderful and clever and beautiful and musical. All his favourite toys were the ones that made sound, and by the time he was one he was already reacting differently to various genres of music.

When he was born, and for the entire first year, you did everything you could to find his father. It was just never going to happen with so little to go on. But then, there he was, singing into the camera. You called what little family you had and your friends and anyone that had ever contributed to Ali's upbringing. It needed to be a group decision; now that you could find him, should you? Did you have that responsibility? Was he better off living his rock star life without knowing? What if he took one look at you and Ali and walked the other way? What if the sweetness you remembered of him was a false memory? More than anything else, there was fear. As you put Ali back on the floor and watched him continue his dance, you knew that it didn't matter what you wanted, or even his father, you both owed it to your child to give him the chance to have a father.

…

"Ignition Management,"

"Uh… Hi… I was wondering if would be possible to speak to someone about, um, Catfish and the Bottlemen?"

"Live booking or press enquiry?" the receptionist's shrill voice asked. You hesitated, and she sensed it. "I don't have time to take fan messages,"

"No! It's not like that. Uh, it's really important,"

"Always is. Have a nice day."

She hung up. So did Primary Talent, Island Records, Creative Arts Agency, and Communion Music. Every message you left the guys, people that worked for them, anyone with a slight association with them, went unanswered. Messages on every form of social media possible. You had to create accounts to do it, but the pain of that was worth it if you could get in contact with them.

It had been two months since you first saw the video for Twice on television. You'd Googled it straight away, read about Ryan Evan McCann. Van. The name didn't spark any more memory, but at least you were right about 'Evan.' It all fit together. They were touring in your city when you fell pregnant. There was no doubt in your mind that Van was Ali's father. They had the same blue eyes and happy grin. Ali was a mini-Van, and as you watched interview after interview on YouTube of Van talking about his lifelong dream of being a dad, you knew you couldn't just give up.

…

"You have no savings, Y/N. If you spend your money on the flight there, that's it. What if Ali gets sick? Don't you want to start saving for school?"

Amber made valid points. She watched you pace the length of your small lounge room. Ali was sitting near the record player, headphones on, zoned out listening to The Cure. His fingers and toes wriggled with the joy of the sound.

"I'm not asking you for money or to approve. I just need you to watch him for the weekend. It's my last chance, Amber. They're going to get too famous to get close to. He deserves to know. Ali deserves a chance to have a dad, you know? Please. Please,"

"Ughhhhhh, Y/N! Fine!" She walked to Ali, kneeling and taking his headphones off. "What do ya say, kid. Weekend with Amber?"

"Thank you, Amb-"

"Don't thank me. Just… Bring home some of that rock star cash, yeah?"

…

"Sorry, love, don't have time to stop," Larry said as he jumped a fence that was temporarily set up to stop people from banging on the artist entrance door.

"No! I'm not, like, a fan, it's really important!" you called after him.

"I'll see if I can find one of the guys to send out, yeah?" he called back.

"No! Wait. Van's got a kid!"

He was at the door and it was open and he was a second away from disappearing inside, along with your only chance. He stopped and looked back at you, a face of judgement. "Really fucked up way to try to get attention," he said.

"I'm not trying to get attention. Here, look at the photo. It was two years ago and you were in my city and I was drunk at this bar and so was Van and we went back to a hotel and didn't swap names and I… Please…. I fucking swear to God I am not lying. Please, just look…"

Larry's eyebrows were pulled together and he was looking at you carefully. You didn't know what it was, your voice, maybe he recognised you from the few minutes you'd spent talking to him that night, the desperation that poured from you, but he decided to cross the space and take your phone from your hand. He looked at the photo of Alistair. It was undeniable.

"Say something else," he said.

"Uh. Keep swiping left, there's more photos. What do you want me to say?"

"Anything," he replied.

"My name is Y/N. We spoke, that night. I think you had long hair then though. I didn't ask Van what he did and I left before he woke up. Um,"

"I remember you," he said suddenly, looking up from your phone. His eyes were glassy. "This… This is Van's kid,"

"Yeah. He's name's-"

"No! Don't! Fuck. I can't know his kid's name before him. Shouldn’t even fuckin' know. Fuck!" He handed your phone back and rubbed his face.

"Is he here? Van?" you asked. Larry looked at you and shook his head.

"How did you know we moved sound check to the morning?"

"I've spent hours reading through teenage gossip online. I know way too much about all of you. It's horrible," you said, an almost smile forming on your lips. Larry smirked. "I've tried for so long to contact him in a better way. I did everything I could, but… Please. I don't have to see him. You can tell him. I just-"

"No. Fuck. No. I'm not breaking that news. Hold on. Give me five minutes, okay? I'll be back. Stay here," Larry replied. You nodded and watched him disappear inside. He returned in only three minutes, jumped the barrier and motioned for you to follow him.

Silently you walked down two blocks and into a hotel. In the elevator up, your stomach began to hurt.

"Is this going to be good or bad news for him?" you asked.

"Ah, I don't fucking know. He's always wanted kids and a family and all that. So… could be good. But… you know,"

"Not like this,"

"Yeah."

He checked the room he was sharing with Van first but he wasn't there. Then, knocking on Bondy and Bob's door, everything became very, very real. Van opened it and you almost fainted. He looked from Larry to you, grinning and clearly mid-story.

"Uh, hey, can I borrow you for a sec?" Larry asked him. Van looked visibly confused and amused at Larry's uncharacteristic formality. He looked back at the guys, then at you. His head tilted and his eyes narrowed.

"Do we know each other?" he asked you.

"Van, just, come on," Larry said and walked across the hall to their room. Van frowned and followed his best friend. You trailed behind them. Inside the room nobody said anything. Larry looked from Van, who was still trying to work out how he knew you, to you. "Alright… I'm gonna go… Uh, good luck…" Larry said and left the room.

"I do know you, right?" Van asked again. You nodded.

"Yeah… Um… We… A couple years ago we… slept together when we were drunk…" Really, that was all you needed to say. What other reason would a girl show up in front of him like that? His face went completely blank and he stopped breathing. "You should maybe… sit…" He did but moved slowly. He was terrified. Unblinking, he watched you as you nervously twisted your left hand fingers around your right wrist. "We didn't swap names or tell each other anything,"

"I remember you. Your voice. I like your voice," he said.

"Yeah. You said that then too. Um. So. Fuck. I don't know how to say this the right way. Don't think there is a right way…" You should have practised. Van was on the verge of tears and he was shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I tried to find you, I did. I just… I didn't know anything about you… You've… You've got a kid. An almost two-year-old."

Van was in shock. You sat next to him and as soon as you did, he rested his forehead on your shoulder. Time moved on; the world continued to spin. Minutes went by.

"I'm sorry," he whispered finally. It made you laugh.

"For what?"

"Not being there,"

"Oh, Van. You don't… You didn't know. It's not your fault. He doesn't know any different yet, you know?"

"He? He's a boy?" Van asked, sitting up straight. Tears were running down his cheeks and it made your nose tingle and eyes start to water too.

"Yeah… Alistair. His name's Alistair. Ali. I, uh, don't really have much family, so no tradition for names or middle names or whatever, but I remembered Evan. I don't know how. You must have told me that? So, that's his middle name. Alistair Evan," you said, smiling through tears. You sniffed and pulled your phone from your pocket. "Did you want to see him?" Van nodded. "Okay. Um. So. He loves music. So, so much. Guess that makes sense now. It's in his blood. But… Fuck, this is gonna sound like a lie, but I promise it's not. We hear your song on the radio all the time. And for some reason Ali just loves it. He freaks out whenever he hears it and he wriggles around and stuff. More than any other music. So, um, so you could see, if I found you, I recorded it."

You handed your phone over and let Van hit play on the video. Immediately he covered his mouth with his hand and made a wounded sound. Ali was standing on your coffee table dancing to Twice. His little body was moving as much as it could, uncoordinated and beautiful.

"He's… so happy," Van squeaked.

"Yeah. He is. Happy and healthy. Um. He looks just like you. Here," you said, taking the phone and showing Van photos. He wiped his face on his sleeves repeatedly.

"I… missed so much," he whispered. You nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did. But it's not your fault," you told him with a shrug. Van took your phone and stared at a photo. A minute ticked by and when your phone automatically locked and Van didn't move you slowly took it from him. He looked at you.

"You said you don't have much family?"

"Yeah. Um. Got some good friends though, so we did okay,"

"Okay? What do you do? Did you have to stop working? How… Where do you live?"

You could see it in Van's face that he was piecing it together. The single mum without a family support network. The struggling. It would have been easy to lie to Van, say it was all okay, but if he wanted to be part of Ali's life then he'd soon learn that wasn't how things played out. There was no point in holding back the truth, even if it only served to make him feel worse for his unintentional absence.

"We still live in the same city. I just flew up here to see if I could speak to you. Um. Kind of last chance. I used up all our savings on this trip, so… it's good that it's worked out. Um. When… When I fell pregnant I wasn't working and didn't have much working history. I was only just twenty. For the first six months, I got a job in a bar and saved up as much as I could. Stayed with friends. Couch surfing type of thing. Then, in the last three months, my uncle let me stay with him. That was… not great, but I was safe and I could save a bit. When Ali was born my uncle's wife couldn't stand the crying at night, so I moved in with my friend Amber. I stayed with her for a whole year. She fed me and Ali and pretty much… saved us, I guess. Then, I got a job as a receptionist and there was day care centre on site, so even though it was soul crushing I took it. Still there now. It's enough to pay rent and save a bit," you explained. Van looked like his heart was breaking. He had spent the last two years not giving a second thought to money. He had an account where most of his income went that was for his future child. It hurt him to think about all the things Ali didn't have but could have under different circumstances.

"I'm so, so sorry,"

"No. Don't. I didn't come here to make you feel bad,"

"I'll fix it," Van said, standing up and wiping his face. "I'll look after you and him, and it will all be okay and you'll never even have to work if you don't want, 'cause I have all this fucking money I don't know what to do with, and-"

"Van," you stopped him, standing and taking his hands. "I didn't come here for your money either. We're okay. Ali's not missed out on anything. He's completely spoiled by my friends. I just…"

"I know. I wasn't saying you… I just…"

"Yeah. It's okay. Come here. It's alright," you replied, pulling him into a hug. He held you tight, like if he let you go you'd disappear again, but second time around you'd not find your way back to him.

You ended up on the floor side by side, with your backs to the bed. Van rested his head on your shoulder as you told him as much about Ali as you could think of, which was a lot. It was hours later when Larry knocked on the door. Van had to eat and go on stage. He told Larry he'd come down stairs in a minute.

"Uh, what was your plan? Where are you staying?" Van asked.

"I don't have a plan. My flight got in early this morning and I went straight to the venue. Read online that you started to doing sound check in the morning,"

"Yeah… Guess I missed that today,"

"Yeah. Um. I didn't book a hotel or a flight home or anything. Wanted to see how this would pan out," you told him.

He nodded as he put his wallet and phone in his pocket. With a jacket on, he held out a hand. "Well, come on. We'll go get food and you can come to the show, then we'll head to the airport," Van said, like it was the obvious thing to do. You laughed even though it wasn't funny.

"What?"

"What? Did you think I'd be able to stay here knowing I've got a kid in another country?"

"I… don't know what I thought,"

"Y/N," he said, stepping close and holding your face in his hands. "I am freaking out. I don't even know how to describe this feelin'. I don't know what I'm meant to do or what you need me to do. I'm very, very fuckin' lost, love. All I know for sure is that I need to meet him. If you're alright with that?"

You nodded, stunned.

Downstairs, holding your hand tight, Van stood in front of his band. Larry was gone; probably doing his roadie duties. Van went to tell them, explain who you were but he couldn't. It would make it real. Instead, he said you were an old friend that he thought he'd never see again. It was vague and weird and not at all convincing but they didn't ask questions.

You let Van buy you dinner and after, watched him from side of stage. You were surprised it had taken you so long to come across Catfish. They were amazing and clearly absolutely loved by their fans. Every single person in the crowd watched them with wide eyes while screaming Van's lyrics back at him. After their final song, and Larry explaining to you they didn't do encores, Van walked off stage and straight to you.

"Will he want to come to shows? Will he like this?" he asked immediately.

"Ali? Yeah. Of course. Maybe when he's a bit older," you replied. He nodded and whispered something to Larry when he brought over a towel and bottle of water. Larry nodded, smiled at you, and walked off.

"Okay. Come on. Let's get out of here before anyone notices," Van said, taking your hand.

Outside there was a car and it drove you the short distance to the hotel. Van packed his bag while you checked flights. If you hurried, you could catch a flight home straight away. Van called through to buy the tickets from the back of the taxi.

The flight was long but you both slept through most of it. Van's entire world had changed in the biggest possible way. Maybe he was still in shock but he was handling it well. He passed out in the middle seat, his arm around you. You pulled the airline blanket up and cuddled into his side. It was more than you could have ever hoped for. He was more than you could have ever hoped for.

…

It was a different day, a different time zone when you arrived home. Van was quiet in the taxi and all the way up the stairwell of your apartment building. It was just after five in the evening and no natural light had found its way inside. Putting the key in the hole and turning, you paused. You could hear Alistair and Amber on the other side of the door. Looking at Van, you could see him noticing the flaking paint and dirty hallway floor.

"Van. We don't want your pity, okay? Don't need you to swoop in and throw your money around and save the day," you said quietly, kindly. He nodded.

"I just want to know him, Y/N," he said back.

You pushed the door open. Your apartment was small. The front door opened into the kitchen/lounge room. There was a tiny hallway that only took two steps to get to the end of. From there, there was a bedroom and a bathroom. The bedroom was Ali's. You pulled the bed out of the sofa every night. Or, you intended to, but mostly you just crashed on it as is, or fell asleep in Ali's bed when reading him a bedtime story.

Amber started to talk before she looked up. "Hey, Y/N. Did you bring home that sweet, sweet rock star mon-oh my god." The word had changed when she saw Van. "Or… just, you know, bring the entire rock star. Guess that would work." She stared at Van but before any of you could move, Ali came storming out of his bedroom.

"Mummmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

You dropped to your knees and let him throw himself into you. Holding him tight you felt at ease again. Patting his hair, you watched Amber walk to Van.

"Hi. Um. Van," he said, holding a hand out. She looked at it, smirked, then shook.

"Amber,"

"Yeah. Yeah, I've heard a lot about you,"

"Heard nothing about you," she replied, sceptical of him.

"Amber!" you warned. She shrugged and walked to the kitchen bench. Ali started to squirm, unable to stay still and held for long. You held his shoulders and he smiled at you. "Hey, baby. Got someone for you to meet," you said. He looked over at Van and the recognition was instant and visible. His big blue eyes scanned over Van, then he looked back at you.

"Song," he whispered.

"He's been watching their music videos the whole time you've been gone. Screamed if I tried to put anything else on the iPad. It's fuckin' weird," Amber said from the kitchen. You weren't looking at Van but you knew he'd probably puffed up with pride.

"Yeah, baby. Song. Go say hi," you told Ali. He waddled over to Van, who fell to his knees like you had.

"Wait until he hugs you first," you whispered to Van. Ali stood in front of him, looking at him carefully. He walked around him in a circle and stopped back in front of him.

"You Song," Ali said. Van nodded, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Oh!" Ali called when he saw it. He looked back at you, worried.

"It's okay. He's alright, baby. Fix it for him," you told Ali. He looked back at Van and slowly stepped closer. He wobbled on the spot and held himself up by putting a little hand on Van's chest. He reached up and wiped Van's tear away. It was an awkward and not at all gentle motion, but it was filled with baby love.

"Fixed," he whispered. When Van smiled wide, Ali laughed and pushed himself into him in a weird little hug. Van glanced at you, you nodded, and in an instant Van was holding Ali tight. You stood up and Amber came to stand beside you. You watched them hug each other. Then Van whispered his first words to his child.

"I've been waiting to meet you my whole fuckin' life."

It broke you. You covered your face to hold in the sobs and turned to Amber. Even she, stoic and strong, was moved to tears. She held you as you cried into her shoulder.

"Alright. Alright. We've got to pull ourselves together," she said loudly. You nodded, let her go and wiped your face. She did the same. You both looked back at Van and Ali. They'd not moved. You walked around to be able to see Ali's face. He looked up at you, and he'd never seemed so happy in someone's arms.

"Song," he whispered to you.

"Yeah, but that isn’t his name, baby,"

"Ali," Ali said. You laughed. 

"Yep. You're Ali. He's…"

It dawned on you that you'd not considered this. Ali squirmed and Van let him go. He waddled out of the room and you all listened as he made a lot noise from his bedroom. He was looking for something. He was speaking to himself in babble talk. Van stood up and looked at you.

"Well. Are you Van or are you Dad?" Amber asked, with a chuckle.

Ali walked awkwardly into the room carrying multiple things. He dropped them in front of Van and ran off again. When he returned with more objects Amber stood in his way. He looked up at her and made a confused sound.

"Little man. What are you doing?"

"Stuff!" he answered.

"Show and tell, huh?" She looked back at you, then Van.

"Pwease," he said, asking her to move. She stepped aside and he sat at Van's feet. He was babbling again and when Van didn't automatically sit down with him, he looked up at him, then at you. "Mummy?" he said in question. "Song?"

You needed to fix that before he couldn't unlearn the name. You crouched down and pointed to yourself. "Mummy," you said. Ali nodded. You pointed at Amber, and she said her name. Ali nodded. You pointed at Van, who looked like he was going to throw up. "Daddy," you said. Ali knew that meant something because you'd been preparing him for the concept of a father with picture books and attempted conversations. Van made a sound as you said the word. "Not Song. He makes the song, but he's Daddy. Okay?" you said, speaking as clearly as possible. Ali nodded. You moved away and you all watched as he went quiet for a minute. He was putting his teddies in a line. He held one, his favourite, then looked up at Van. He held the teddy up to him and spoke.

"Daddy. Play?"

Van was barely holding it together, you could see that. He slowly sat on the ground, legs crossed. Ali put a small blanket over Van's lap and started to pile teddies on him, talking Van through who each was. It wasn't in English but Van seemed to understand.

You left them playing to help Amber cut up vegetables for a stir fry. You listened to your son's talking and Van's replies. He was a natural, but every sound he made was hiding a very strong need to break down and cry. When dinner was almost ready, you made three places at the breakfast bar and pulled Ali's highchair up. Watching Van try to get noodles from the bowl into Ali's mouth was worth the money spent on the trip alone. Ali cackled, and the harder Van tried, the less successful he was. He looked at you.

"Lucky you weren't here. Ali would have starved," Amber joked.

"Too soon, Ambs," you said shooting her a look. She laughed and shrugged. Van's cheeks were going red. "You're fine, Van. Ali. Noodles. Eat them," you ordered.

"Hands?" Ali asked, but the D was silent. You nodded. He picked the stir fry up in clumps and chewed at them with an open mouth. Van watched him make a mess, completely in love.

After dinner, Amber picked up her bag. "Van. Walk me down to my car?" she asked. He nervously smiled and nodded. As you hugged her goodbye you whispered a warning in her ear.

"He didn't know. Be nice. We need him,"

"We've never needed him before," she replied. You looked at her and she knew what you were saying. Neither of you had ever seen Alistair adjust to a stranger so easily. Not only adjust, but clearly fall in love.

As Amber and Van walked through the front door Ali started to whimper. He couldn't walk in his toddler wobble fast enough and the door closed behind them. He threw himself against the door. You sat on the couch and closed your eyes for a moment. A lot had happened. There was a lot to process.

"Ali. Baby. Come here," you called. He crawled over and you pulled him into your arms. "How ya feeling?" He stayed quiet, playing with your necklace. "Yeah. Same. Do you like Van? Daddy?" The word made Ali's clear blue eyes flick up to yours. He remained silent. "That a yes? Yeah… Same. This is good, right? He's not going to leave or anything, yeah?" Ali burrowed into you and giggled. "Nah. Couldn't. You're too cute to abandon." You started to tickle him and he exploded into happy hysterics.

…

Van was gone longer than the short walk to Amber's car called for. When he came back through the front door, you were making tea while Ali laid on the couch twinkling his fingers above his face. He looked over at Van but quickly went back to his hands. Van came to stand near you.

"How was that?" you asked with a grin. He just looked at you and shook his head.

"She's… She's a good friend,” 

"Nicest thing anyone's said about her. But yeah. She is. She's just really looked out for us," you replied.

"She still is. Trust me. She has got your fuckin' back."

You laughed, nodding and reaching into the fridge for milk. You held it up to Van and he nodded. "Sugar?" That was a no. You both sat on the stools with your backs to the bar, watching Ali. He was making a sound that was almost speech but more melodic. Baby tunes. You looked over at Van. "You're handling this very well,"

"Am I? I feel…"

"Bit numb?"

"Yeah," Van replied with a small nod. He sipped his tea.

"Yeah. You'll probably be like that for a while. Can't imagine what it feels like,"

"I just have so many questions, you know? Like… What was his first word? And his birth certificate, I'd not be on it? Can we change that? Does he have a passport? When can he come meet my parents? What's his favourite food? There's just so much I don’t know." As Van spoke you could see he was freaking himself out. If he thought about it too much, the two years he missed, it could kill him.

"You've got loads of time to learn it all. And you know he won't remember this, right? When's your earliest memory?" you asked Van.

He shrugged. "Can remember just a few things from when I was four maybe? Not much though,"

"Exactly. Ali's never going to know life without you. You'll be here from the time he starts making proper memories. That's what matters, really,"

"It matters that I wasn't there when he was born. For you, or him. And that you had to be the one to get up every single night. You know? All of that stuff matters to me,"

"Well, if you want to make up for it, you can be bad cop for the rest of his life. Every time we don't want him to do something, we're blaming you. Like, if that makes you feel better," you said. Van smiled and nodded.

"Whatever you want, I'll do it," he replied. You believed him.

…

You and Van stood side by side in front of Ali. He was still twinkling his fingers. It was clear he knew it was past his bedtime. The evidence was in the fact he refused to make eye contact with either of you. Somehow he had already judged Van as someone with authority over him.

"Ali," you said again, your voice low. He giggled and shook his head. You looked at Van. "Bad cop. Bedtime. Go,"

"Do I… Does he just literally get put in bed? Do I have to do anythin' else?" Van asked. You could see the look of panic on his face. He didn't want to fuck it up.

"Yeah. He can sleep in that. Under the covers. Pick a book to read to him. Nightlight on. Easy."

Van unfolded his arms from across his chest and crouched down. Ali ignored him. Van tapped him gently on the arm. He got a giggle from it, but no more attention. "Alright, kid. You gotta work with me. If you don't go to bed, she'll think I can't do this. If you want me to stick around, I kinda need you to go to bed," Van said to him. More giggles, no movement towards his bedroom.

"Good try, but two-year-olds have limited logical reasoning," you said. Van laughed. He watched Ali for a few seconds longer, then scooped him up into his arms. Ali squealed, half in delight at being held, half in annoyance at being put to bed. You stayed in the lounge as they disappeared into Ali's bedroom.

When Ali's sounds went quiet after ten minutes, you peeked your head in. Van was kneeling on the floor, his arms folded on the bed, chin rested on them. He was watching Ali, who was dead asleep. When a floorboard squeaked under you Van looked over. You smiled and he got up and followed you out into the living room. You collapsed on the couch and Van cuddled into your side with his head on your shoulder.

"I did it,"

"Yeah. In record time, too. How'd you manage that?"

"He wouldn't listen to a book. Kept hitting it. So, I sang,"

"Of course you did. What did you sing?" you asked.

"There's this old Irish lullaby my granddad used to sing to my dad, and he sang to me. So, that."

The significance of that weighed heavy on your heart. "That's the first family tradition he's been given. That, and I guess your middle name. See? A few hours in and you're already making his life better," you said.

"Fuck," Van replied immediately, sitting up and covering his face with his hands. "Don't… Don't say that." His voice was breaking and his ability to keep it together was slipping. "I just… You've raised him so good, Y/N. His life is good because of you," Van said looking at you.

"I know that. But he's only two, Van. He doesn't have a sense of self yet. No moral compass. All that important stuff hasn't even happened yet. Hard stuff's to come, you know? I know you think you've missed it all, and I'm not saying that isn't a valid thing to feel, but… it's okay. You're here now, when it's important. Gotta roll with it."

Van nodded and fell back into you. You put an arm around him and let him cuddle up. There was a throw blanket on the couch and you pulled it over the two of you. The thoughtful silence lasted almost fifteen minutes before Van started to chuckle.

"What?" you asked.

"I remember more about that night than you, I think,"

"Like what?"

"More I think about it, more I remember. Like, I remember thinking about how fucking pretty you are. Stalked you around that bar for a good half hour before I came over," he said. He'd said 'are' not 'were' but you didn't notice. "Remember your dead cute accent. Remember waking up without you and being absolutely gutted. Really, really liked you. Was gonna fly you around the world with me," he said, smiling at the memory.

"Is that why you got me pregnant?" you asked. Van looked at you with an unimpressed face. "Oh my god. I'm joking,"

"Why did you leave? Didn't say goodbye or anything,"

"I don't know. Just didn't think I needed to. Pretty much lived for kicks then, you know?"

"Yeah. Really was gutted though,"

"Sorry," you replied with a smirk. He shook his head. "Just, like, for the record, I don't expect you to… like me like that now, or whatever. I didn't even ask if you have a girlfriend or anything. I don't expect us to just be one big happy family,"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Van said immediately. He was quiet for a second, and you could hear Ali's small footsteps. "What if I do, though? Like you? Does that make it easier or more complicated?"

"Think the more pressing issue is that we are currently being spied on," you said nodding towards the hallway.

Alistair had not yet learned that just because he couldn't see you, you couldn't see him. He was half hidden by the wall and had his eyes covered with his hands. Van grinned wide and sat up. Ali peaked out through his fingers, and in his attempt at stealth, replaced giggles with little stomps.

"Did I not do bedtime right?" Van asked you.

"No, you did. He's like this sometimes. He can come cuddle for a bit if you want," you said. Van's face lit up. He whistled at Ali. It got his full attention.

"Come here, buttercup," Van called, and Ali immediately ran over as fast as his short chubby legs would take him. Van pulled him up into his lap and you covered them both with the blanket.

"Where's your socks?" you asked Ali. His feet were freezing and you rubbed them between your palms.

"He wasn't wearing any," Van said. You nodded and went to Ali's room to get him fuzzy bed socks. When you returned and put them on, Van was chewing his lip.

"He gets really, really cold feet. Has to wear them to bed. He'll wake up otherwise," you explained.

"Sorry. I-"

"No, Van, you're fine. I didn't tell you. All good," you said with a smile. You could see it hurt Van.

"Can I?" Van asked and you let him take over warming Ali's feet. "Sorry that I made you cold," he whispered to Ali.

"Van…"

"No, I know. Not my fault. Still can be sorry," he said. You watched them for a second. Alistair leant into Van was an ease that made you feel sick to think how close he came to never knowing his father. They were born to love each other. They were quiet, and when Ali felt warm, he pushed Van's hands away from his feet. Van nodded, understanding, and kissed Ali's head gently. "I'm never going to be able to let him go, Y/N,"

"Yeah, I know,"

"I'm serious. I can't go back to my life. I'll move here, or you can come live with me. Doesn't matter which. I just… I need you both now."

You nodded. It was the best you could do. Yes, Van's entire reality had just been rewritten, his own identity completely shattered in the process. But so had yours. You weren't alone anymore. You weren't a single mum anymore. And the way that Van opened his arm for you to cuddle into him with Ali, it promised too much about a family you never let yourself dream of.

Ali fell asleep first, never more loved in his life. Exhausted in every way a human could be, sleep quickly found you. Van was warm and in his arms you felt safe. Van hardly slept. He moved to let you curl up on the couch and after he put Ali back in bed, socked and warm, he came back to tuck you in. He found pillows and a thicker blanket in a cupboard, then sat on the floor and watched you sleep. Van had spent his life watching Mary and Bernie, thinking that their love and sacrifice was the ultimate thing. But you, you were that. You were glorious love and profound sacrifice. You were strength and courage. You had brought Van's child into the world and raised him, and then been so willing to let Van in. He'd never, ever figure out all the ways he had and would love you. And as the birds outside sang in the next day, day two of parenthood, Van sat early-riser Ali on his hip and Googled what two-year-olds eat for breakfast.


End file.
